“Fuck, Duff!”
Immediately he had his hand there, cupping her breast, his touch bringing her pleasure in the wake of the pain.
“Soon enough, lovely girl. Soon enough. But I need to hurt you a bit more first. You need it, too. Yeah, don’t worry about a thing. I know what you need, and I’ll give it to you. That is my first concern. You’re in my hands now. All you have to do is lie there, princess. Lie there and take it.”
She watched in a combination of fascination and dread as he turned up the dial on the humming instrument. Then he began to sort of tap her skin with it, drawing it back before quickly touching her again. And it created a breathless sort of zapping, like a series of tiny bee stings, punctuated by a sweep of his smooth palm over her skin that had her system pinging back and forth between pain and pleasure, until the pain was pleasure.
She knew this was how it worked, but it seemed like an epiphany to her—that this could happen to her. That she could trust him so implicitly, yet still be afraid. Oh, it was a beautiful mind-fuck—one she wanted more of.
He paused to lean in close, to whisper against her mouth, “How are we doing? Are you good?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice a breathy pant. “Yes, I’m good.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re fucking gorgeous. Responsive as hell. It’s like you’re dancing on the table. Dancing in your bonds. You have no idea how much I love to see it. How hard it makes me.” He slipped a hand between her spread thighs, and his fingers slipped in her juices. “It makes you hot, too. Oh, yeah, that’s the really good part.”
He started to stroke her there, and even though she was afraid he’d stick the damn wand between her legs—which she couldn’t believe a part of her actually wanted—her body responded like crazy, her hips arching into his touch.
“Do you need me to get you off, princess? It feels like you do. And I could almost be happy to stand here and stroke your hot little pussy all night, you feel so damn good. Almost. But I have work to do yet, don’t I?”
When he pulled his hand away, a small sob escaped her, but it only made him smile.
“Goddamn it, Duff,” she muttered between teeth clenched against pleasure and helplessness.
He chuckled. “It’s nice to be wanted,” he teased before dropping his tone. “Do you want me, Layla?”
She ground her jaw tight, trying to defy him, but he only grabbed her face in a hard, punishing grip.
“Do you want me?” he demanded, his tone stern.
Her body melted, her defiance diffusing beneath his command.
“How do you always know exactly what I need?” she asked, her voice low, raspy with desire.
“That’s my job, isn’t it? I happen to very good at my job.”
He bent and kissed her, and she was only vaguely aware of the low buzzing of the wand as his lips and tongue explored her mouth, making her thighs tighten up, fighting her bonds, needing to press them together to relieve the ache between them.
“Now,” he murmured against her lips, “let’s see what else I can find to amuse myself with.”
Straightening up, he switched the instrument off, and she watched as he pulled the glass tube out and replaced it with a heavy cord, one end with a metal tube that he plugged into the wand. The other end was a flat rectangle of metal, which he tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
“This is a contact pad,” he explained. “And I am now the conductor of the electrical current. Which means I’ll feel it, too, as it runs through my fingers, but I don’t mind.”
Switching the wand on once more, he ran his fingertips over her stomach, and it tickled and hurt at the same time. She swore she saw sparks flying from his fingers. When he reached up to run his fingers through her hair, her whole scalp tingled—it was titillating and oddly relaxing at the same time, and she couldn’t help but squirm. He turned the intensity up and the tickling sensation and the release of endorphins made her giggle.
“Are you finding electricity funny, princess?”
“No. Well, not funny, but . . . Hey!” She yelped and laughed when he feathered his fingers through her hair again. “I don’t mean to giggle like this, and I feel like a fool, but it’s an amazing feeling. I can’t help it.”
“Have you never laughed while playing before? Such a shame. Know you can laugh with me, Layla. And a fool isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was Jonathan Swift who said, ‘I wonder what fool it was that first invented kissing.’ A fine fool, indeed, yes? Yes.”
He grinned at her as he took one finger and let it dance down the center of her chest, so the sparks flew and sensation was a series of tiny snapping shocks. Then he let his fingers flutter over the curve of her breast and she groaned, knowing from the desire and amusement on his face that her nipple was next. He drew his hand back, then extended one finger and moved in slowly while she held her breath. When he touched his fingertip to her nipple, the shock was sharp, and she yelped again.
“Fuck!”
He laughed. “What’s wrong, princess? It doesn’t tickle anymore?”
“It does but . . . God, Duff, you are so mean.”
“Aw. That hurts my feelings—it really does. I think I’ll have to punish you for that cruel remark.”
She held her breath as he started to torture her nipples with his dancing, electrified fingertips. Quick, sharp jolts of pain poured through her, along with desire. When her brain released more of the lovely chemicals in response to the pain, it was in a flooding rush, and her entire body went slack.